


Serious Damage

by Graf_Edric



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dorks, F/M, Geeks, High School, Popular, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 12:09:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5163305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graf_Edric/pseuds/Graf_Edric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When two high school rejects decide to seek well-deserved revenge against a popular adversary, they wind up with more trouble than they bargained for...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

          As much as I loved him, I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to trade places with Elias DeWitt. He only had me height wise by maybe two inches, and we both had the same stick-straight, straw-colored hair, dorky voice, and scrawny build, only Eli was a guy. A sixteen year old guy. When you’re a year younger than that and female, people tend to cut you a little more slack. They think it’s kind of cute or something, and you can get away with a lot of things other girls your age can’t. But being able to pass for part of the ten-and-under crowd when you’re a teenaged boy isn’t quite as acceptable, and believe me, Eli never heard the end of it. He handled it pretty well most of the time, but I knew it had to wear on him, day after day, being asked if his balls had dropped yet, or whether he needed a boost to reach the pencil sharpener. Fortunately, he’d been blessed with a great capacity for laughing at himself, which afforded him a lot more respect than he might have won otherwise. Plus, for someone who liked having an audience as much as he did, almost any kind of attention was better than none at all.

          Eli and I had been pretty much inseparable since I’d been about six years old. We’d met when we were both members of the Academic Games Club at St. Joseph’s Christian School, along with most of the other “gifted” kids from first through fifth grades. The geeks. We’d travel to other schools and participate in competitions to see who knew the most about subjects like social studies, grammar, or math. Eli and I both excelled in anything relating to the English language, and we looked so much alike that people often thought we were siblings. It wasn’t just our height and coloring -- we had the same gaunt appearance, high cheekbones, and the same gap between our front teeth, too, until I got braces in the sixth grade. And we still shared the same spirit of adventure, wild imagination, and silly sense of humor. The two of us were always getting into trouble for cutting up about one ridiculous thing or another. People who knew we weren’t related were always bugging us about being more than just friends, but when you’ve known someone for as long as I’d known Eli, it’s hard to see them that way. How can you lust after somebody when you’ve held farting contests with them and watched them pick their nose and eat it on a dare?

          He’d gone on to high school in 1983, the year before I had. Back at St. Joe’s, Eli had been rather well known, so he didn’t get too much crap for his small stature or lack of physical maturity. Public community high school was a whole new world, though, and everybody seemed to notice. Owing mostly to Eli’s great sense of humor, it never really got too out of hand… until he had the misfortune of crossing paths with Bobby Beckett. A junior, as Eli was that year, Bobby Beckett was around six feet tall, lean and tan and well built, with curly, chestnut colored hair, big square front teeth, and strikingly bright blue-green eyes that slanted downward at the outer corners, making him look deceptively sweet and pitiable. Everybody knew who he was. He played varsity football and dated cheerleaders. Bobby Beckett seemed to be everything Eli wasn’t, and he was not about to let Eli live it down. Eli couldn’t so much as pass through the outer edge of his field of vision without eliciting some manner of taunting in that unmistakable southern drawl. He sounded like he was from Mississippi, or maybe Alabama. Or, as Eli liked to put it, “somewhere where people marry their cousins”. He wasn’t from South Florida, obviously. We were all patently generic in our speech, so you could always pick out Bobby Beckett’s voice in a crowd. And when Eli was around, that voice always seemed to be associated with a threat or putdown coming his way.

          It’s unlikely that Eli ever would have garnered any attention at all out of the likes of Bobby Beckett, even if he’d aimed to -- except that Eli had a tendency to want to jump in and defend anyone that he suspected was being mistreated or bullied, even if it was a total stranger. He couldn’t help himself; it was just the way he operated. He’d been headed back to class after lunch when he’d noticed that Bobby and a cohort appeared to have cornered a girl in the hallway and she looked distraught. Unable to control the urge to step in and rescue the supposed damsel in distress, he’d marched up and demanded that they cease and desist immediately. Bobby had fired back over one shoulder that he needed to stay out of it, and Eli, not easily outdone, had replied that he’d be delighted to butt out just as soon as he’d reported it to the proper school administrators. Bobby dismissed the girl by telling her they’d talk later on, then turned to Eli and informed him that if he did any such thing, he would pay for it with his life. He then stalked off, but not before staring Eli down menacingly for several seconds with his piercing turquoise eyes to ascertain that he’d gotten his intentions across. Eli had succeeded in saving the girl, who may or may not have actually needed saving, but in doing so he’d also managed to bring the wrath of Bobby Beckett upon himself.

          By associating with Eli, I was also subjected to Bobby’s derision, and he was relentless. Day after day, he would find some avenue by which to assault us, be it shouting various colorful obscenities, flinging pizza crusts at us in the cafeteria, shoving Eli to the ground in a crowded hallway, or tapping the bumper of Eli’s secondhand Volvo with his atrociously battered and decrepit GMC pickup as we left the school parking lot, threatening to push us into oncoming traffic.

          Eli was no coward, and he wasn’t about to beg for mercy or allow Bobby’s behavior to persist with impunity. In most instances, he’d have laughed off the insults and threats, but this was different. This wasn’t your usual case of teenaged guys having a laugh at one another’s expense; this was maliciousness far beyond anything either of us had ever encountered before. In our world, Bobby Beckett was a hideous, absolutely evil monstrosity with no redeeming qualities to be had. We wasted a great deal of time plotting revenge against our vile tormenter, and we tried to return fire as best as we could.


	2. Chapter 2

          One chilly Tuesday in January, we were heading to our usual spot in the art wing to eat our lunches when a set of worn, scuffed cowboy boots suddenly came into view, extending out from two jeans-clad legs which belonged to someone whose identity was hidden by the wall where we always sat. But there weren’t many students at Atlantic High who wore cowboy boots, so it wasn’t really much of a mystery who they belonged to.

          “Oh, shit.” Eli whispered under his breath as we both realized whose feet we were looking at. He wasn’t alone. He was rarely alone, and this time he was accompanied by some cheap looking cheerleader type with a frizzy, bleached-blonde perm. I rolled my eyes emphatically at the sight of them.

          He got up and leaned casually against the painted concrete wall. “Whatsa matta boy? Somebody done took y’all’s lunch spot? Aw, ain’t that a shame. I guess y’all gon’ hafta find somewhere else to eat.” He squinted his eyes and smiled a sardonic, smug, closed mouth smile, so that the corners of his mouth actually turned down a little, one slightly more than the other.

          I wanted to land a fist square in that stupid, pouty mouth of his that all the rest of the girls thought was so freaking adorable.

          “You’re an asshole, Bobby.” Eli replied.

          “What you gon’ do about it, faggot?” He shot back nastily, leaning his head slightly to one side. He had a rather noticeable scar though his left eyebrow and another, smaller one that cut into his top lip on the same side. I’d noticed it many times before. I figured it was about time one of us mentioned it, since he seemed to have no problem getting personal with us.

          “Why’s your face all fucked up like that?” I interjected, “Who kicked your ass?”

          Eli snickered.

          Bobby clenched his jaw and inhaled audibly through his nose and for about half a second, I thought he was going to physically attack me before the cool sneer returned and he retorted, “You need to ask yo momma about that. Her pussy got _teeth_ in it.”

          What a hilarious thing to say.

          “Good, I hope it bit your dick off too, then,” I laughed, making a face like I thought he was not only ridiculous, but likely insane as well. There were times when I secretly wished he’d just relent and grow a conscience. I could tell he had the potential to be highly entertaining. But as of yet, his nastiness far overshadowed any possibility that he might actually have a shred or two humanity somewhere in the depths of his otherwise black soul.

          “So, uh… Were your parents related by any chance? Cousins, maybe? Brother and sister?” Eli asked as he eyed Bobby with mock suspicion.

          “Suck my dick,” Bobby replied, chuckling scornfully. I caught a glimpse of those two big front teeth, and I suddenly wondered if anyone had ever told him how much they made him resemble an overgrown rabbit.

          Before I had the opportunity to share my thoughts, however, Mr. Bellamy, one of the deans, came cruising up in a squeaking golf cart, which leaned heavily to one side under his weight. He sensed the tension and asked us if there was a problem, which was enough to deter us from pursuing the matter any further. Routed by the specter of a possible trip to the deans’ office, Eli and I headed for our second-favorite lunch spot: the drama room. The drama room was set up like a downsized theater and there were plenty of comfy places to sit on the carpeted floor and stage. It was noisy and tended to be overrun with ‘drama nerds’, but it was certainly much better than having to forcibly remove Bobby Beckett and his big old goofy Easter Bunny teeth from our preferred location.

          “I hope he sits on the gum,” I commented to Eli, referring to a notoriously disgusting clump of chewed gum that had recently been deposited on the concrete walkway in our usual lunch spot.

          “He’s probably the one who put it there in the first place,” Eli replied disdainfully.

          “All the more reason why he deserves to sit on it.” I chirped back sweetly.

          Eli flashed a tight-lipped smile back in affirmation of my sentiment, but I could tell he was still rather dejected. After a minute or two, he muttered in his characteristically strange, nasally voice, “We’ve gotta _do_ something about that asshole. I know we keep saying it but seriously, there’s got to be _something_ we can do to get him off our backs. I mean, I’m at the point where I feel like I just need to beat his ass. Even if I lose, if I could just get a few good shots in, maybe that would be enough to get the message across. I’m sick of taking _shit_ from him all the time. I’m seriously about to lose it here.”

          “Yeah, but we need to be smart about this,” I suggested, “It would pretty much suck if we got our asses kicked by him and his buddies _and_ managed to get suspended for fighting on top of it or whatever. We gotta get him alone somehow, off school grounds, or get some friends in on it to back us up or something. There has to be a way we can make sure we win, or at least cause some serious damage, so he doesn’t want to mess with us anymore. It won’t do much good if we lose miserably.”

          “Well, maybe we can find out where he lives and then… we could wait until he comes out alone… I think I might be able to take him, ya know. I’ve had karate lessons and it’s not like I’m a weakling. Just because he’s taller doesn’t mean he’s stronger than me.”

          “And bullies have a tendency to be cowards,” I added.

          “They do,” Eli confirmed, nodding.

          “I’m sure the only reason he keeps bugging us is that he doesn’t think we’ll ever really fight back,” I continued, “He’s probably a total fuckin’ chicken shit.”

          “Maybe he’ll just run away,” Eli laughed.

          “That would be _priceless_!”

          “It would.”

          We had to part ways after lunch, and as I headed for my next class, I stopped at my locker to grab the corresponding folder. I felt a presence to my left and when I glanced over, I found that our arch enemy had walked right up alongside of me. He was facing the lockers, as if his was among them, but I knew it wasn’t. I went right back to looking for my folder as if there hadn’t been anyone there at all, expecting some random slur to be hurled my way at any moment. After a few seconds of silence, though, he just turned and wandered off down the hallway to join some friends of his who were congregating in front of one of the classroom doors. I immediately wondered what he was planning to do to my locker now that he knew where it was located. I’d have to check it carefully for booby traps from now on, I thought to myself.

          After several days, however, there was no sign of any tampering, and I began to ponder what possible reasons he might have had for approaching me if it wasn’t to pinpoint which locker was mine with the intent of messing with it later on. Perhaps he had wanted to say something civil, but had changed his mind when he noticed his friends might be witness to proof of his actually possessing a soul. This gave me an idea. Maybe if I were to try talking to him alone, without Eli around, we would be able to reach some sort of ceasefire agreement. It was worth a try. After all, what was the worst that could happen? That he’d try to insult me and/or refuse to listen? His intended affronts never really bothered me anyway, and at least then I’d know whether or not the problem could be solved without bloodshed on either side. I didn’t exactly relish the idea of getting into a fistfight with a guy who looked as though he could snap me like a twig, at any rate, even if I did have the ever-gallant Eli to back me up. Maybe he _was_ a coward… but what if he wasn’t? I’d seen him in short sleeves and his biceps were rather impressive for a boy our age. He wasn’t all buff and cut like he intentionally lifted weights or anything like that, so much as he just had the kind of lean but muscular build I’d seen in guys who did a lot of physical labor, like a construction worker or something. Certainly not the sort of person with whom you’d want to engage in direct, hand-to-hand combat when you’re a five-foot-two-inch tall girl who weighs 95 pounds soaking wet. So I made up my mind that at the very next opportunity, I would take it upon myself to see whether or not Bobby Beckett was willing to give peace a chance.

          I didn’t mention my plan to Eli because I was worried he’d try to stop me or insist that I should allow him to come along. I didn’t want him to be there because I felt like the animosity was so strong between the two of them that if there was any chance of having a civilized discussion with Bobby, it would be completely eradicated as soon as Eli came flitting around hyperactively, yapping and chattering and smiling his broad, gap toothed grin.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

          I found my opportunity when I spied Bobby Beckett one Friday afternoon a few days later, leaning up against the chain link fence that surrounded the football field as I was heading out to the parking lot to meet Eli after school. I knew I had several minutes to spare because Eli’s last class was all the way on the other side of the campus, so I mustered all of my confidence and walked up to the other side of the fence, behind Bobby. I liked this arrangement anyway, since the fence would prevent him from physically harming me, should he decide to take that route. He was dressed in his white and green Atlantic High School football uniform, minus the helmet, which dangled loosely from the fingers of his right hand. His number was 88. _‘…But it should be “666”’_ , I thought to myself facetiously.

          He didn’t hear me approaching, so after fighting off my apprehension for a moment, I steeled myself and said, “Hey.”

          He looked back over his shoulder and when he saw me, he just stared for a few seconds, squinting. “Whatchoo want?” he demanded, cocking his head back and to one side and curling his upper lip with a combination of suspicion and general orneriness.

          My heart was pounding ferociously and I realized that I was a lot more intimidated by him than I’d formerly believed. I wasn’t afraid that he’d hurt me so much as I was just unsettled by his popularity and status compared to my obvious lack thereof, not to mention the way he looked in that uniform, in spite of my abject aversion to the very thought of finding the likes of him attractive.

          “Um… I want to ask you something.” I managed, trying desperately to seem calm and confident.

          He turned around to face me and raised his eyebrows expectantly. Sweat-dampened curls framed his forehead.

          “Okay, um, I was just wondering if maybe… um… if maybe there was any way that um…” ‘ _Come on, Mary, just spit it out!’_ I thought fiercely.

          Bobby’s expression appeared to soften up a little as I tried to explain myself, and he looked slightly amused, although he didn’t actually smile. He always seemed to have this strangely dubious expression about his nose and mouth, possibly on account of his upper lip naturally being somewhat pouty and bowed. It would have been almost endearing had he not been such an asshole otherwise.

          I took a deep breath and continued, “I was wondering if you and Eli could, like, call a truce or something. I know you guys are mad at each other and all but…” I tried to put it as sweetly as possible, but he immediately took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

          “Oh. You just here to defend yo little boyfriend, ain’t you? I bet he done sent you over here too. That motherfucker.”

          “No, _listen_ , he doesn’t know I’m doing this. I swear,” I insisted.

          It was obvious he wasn’t buying what I was selling, even though it was the truth. “ _Sheeit._ You tell that dipshit if he got somethin to say to me, he needs to come on over here and say it. He’s a fuckin’ pussy for sendin’ his girl over here to do his goddamn business, you know that?”

          “He’s not a pussy; he’s a nice guy. Why do you guys _have_ to hate each other? Can’t you handle this situation with a little more class than that? Come on.” I was emboldened by my desire to defend Eli and set the record straight, not to mention the frustration I felt at his insistence that Eli had put me up to this. It was obvious to me that Bobby simply had the wrong idea about my friend and I desperately wanted him to see that the two of us were perfectly decent, reasonable human beings who didn’t deserve to be mistreated.

          Bobby only seemed to be further enraged by my attempt to stand up for Eli, however, and he leaned in close to the fence and snarled coldly, “You go tell that little _fffucken’_ boyfriend a’ yours I got a message for _him_ , too,” …and then he proceeded to spit right in my face!

          I was utterly horrified. I had never, in all of my life, even _seen_ anyone do anything so completely spiteful and offensive. At first, I was speechless. I just stood there, wiping my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I felt tears of rage stinging my eyes.

          “You fucking piece of shit!” I screamed after him as he walked away. “Fucking inbred, redneck piece of garbage! You’ll get yours, you scumbag!”

          He looked back over his shoulder at me, a dark, baleful glance full of undisguised hatred. I couldn’t even begin to fathom what could possibly cause someone as seemingly fortunate as Bobby Beckett to be so incredibly vicious. _Why?_ What gave him the belief that he was justified to act like he had it out for the rest of the world? Who had ever mistreated him like he had mistreated Eli? ‘ _He has no idea what it’s like to be treated like he’s treating us,’_ I thought viciously. ‘ _He needs to know.’_

          Someone had to show Bobby Beckett what it was like to suffer; what it was like to feel helpless and persecuted. I decided right then and there that I would do it. I would find a way to make sure he knew exactly how he’d made us feel, or die trying.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

          As soon as Eli caught sight of me running toward him in the parking lot, he knew something was terribly wrong. He’d been friends with me long enough to know that I rarely cried, so when he saw the tears streaming down my face, he immediately grabbed me and hugged me.

          “Mary… what happened?”

          “Bobby Beckett _spit_ on me! He spit in my _face_!” I wailed furiously through clenched teeth.

          “He spit at you? When? Just now?”

          “Yes! I saw him over by the football field, I asked him to leave you alone, and he _spit at me_! That fucking _asshole_ , Eli! I want to _kill_ him!”

          Eli swallowed hard. He shook his head. “That’s it. He needs his fuckin’ ass beat. I’ll fight dirty; I don’t care. As long as he gets hurt, I don’t give a shit what happens to me. Let’s go find his stupid fuckin’ ass. Right now.”

          He made a beeline for the football field, and I was right behind him. I was still upset by what had transpired a few minutes before, but apprehension over what Bobby might do to Eli suddenly started to overshadow my burning desire for vengeance. I was more relieved than disappointed when we rounded the corner of the gym building to find the football field vacant.

          “Shit, he’s gone,” I announced, feigning disappointment.

          “Well, he’s gotta be here somewhere. His truck was still out there.”

          Eli went straight for the gym, but when we flung open the doors, we found the girls’ volleyball team practicing inside, and no sign of Bobby Beckett.

          I secretly hoped we wouldn’t find him at all, but I wasn’t about to tell Eli. I felt ashamed over my lack of confidence in his ability to take Bobby on. I followed him through the hallways as he checked every one of Bobby’s known haunts, but he was nowhere to be found. Finally, after half an hour of scouring the halls with no luck, I suggested we give up the search and go home. Eli reluctantly agreed, and we headed for the car. Upon arriving, he immediately noticed that the battered GMC pickup remained in the now nearly empty lot.

          “Look. That fucker’s still here somewhere,” he said with conviction, pointing at the truck.

          “Maybe it’s broken down and he left it here and got a ride home,” I suggested, “I mean, look at it. That thing’s got to be on its last legs.”

          Eli made a skeptical face. “I bet he’s still here.”

          “So what are we going to do, sit here and wait all afternoon? He might be in there for hours. Or maybe he _did_ get a ride with somebody, who knows? I just wanna go home.”

          “Fine,” he sighed, unlocking the car doors. “I mean, you’re the one who got spit on. I guess if you don’t care then I shouldn’t care, either.”

          We plopped down into our seats.

          “Yeah, I got spit on for defending _you_ ,” I reminded him. I didn’t like the attitude he was giving me. I had no intention of egging him on, but I wasn’t about to sit there and be criticized.

          “I didn’t ask you to do that,” he retorted as he backed the car out. “You did it all on your own. It’s not like I told you to go confront him or anything.”

          “Oh my gosh. You are such a fuckin’ jerk, Elias.”

          “Why am I a jerk?” he demanded.

          “Because I stood up for you and now you’re gonna give me shit for it? I can’t fuckin’ believe this.”

          He swung the car around the end of the row of parking spaces and accelerated toward the exit. “Listen, I’m not giving you shit for it, Mary. I’m just saying…” His blue-grey eyes darted up toward the rearview mirror. He immediately slammed on the breaks. The Volvo came to an abrupt halt. “Holy shit,” he said, still staring into the mirror. “There he is, right there.”

          My heart leapt. I whipped around in my seat. “Where?” I looked out the rear window, which was now facing the football field. In the distance, I saw a figure dressed in a white, long sleeved shirt and jeans, with a navy blue baseball cap atop his head. It _was_ Bobby Beckett. He was alone.

          “On the football field, that’s him right there.” Eli continued as he threw the car into reverse and backed up quickly toward the fence.

          “Eli, I don’t know. Are you sure you want to do this?”

          “Yeah I’m sure. He needs to be put in his place, Mary. You mean after all this, you don’t think I should kick his ass now? What the fuck?” Eli was incredulous. He stopped the car and started to get out.

          “Maybe you better take a weapon or something,” I suggested, rummaging through the glove compartment for the large wrench I knew he kept in there.

          “Hell no. I don’t want him saying it wasn’t a fair fight,” he explained, as though he was certain of his impending victory. He shut the door and began marching toward the gate.

          I wasn’t so sure. I grabbed the wrench and headed after him.

          As we got closer, it looked as though Bobby was pretending to play football with himself. He was completely oblivious to our presence, throwing the ball around and running here and there.

          “Oh my gosh, what a dork,” I whispered. Eli just shook his head in response. He was too pissed off and pumped on adrenaline to see the humor in it. We ducked behind the bleachers and tried to stay unnoticed as we approached. When we got to within a few yards of him, Eli shouted, “Bobby!”

          He stiffened noticeably and started to turn around.

          “Bobby!” Eli shouted again, closing in on him.

          I heard Bobby saying, “What the fuck’re _you_ doin’ here?”

          “You like to spit on girls? You piece of shit!” Eli snarled viciously. Before Bobby could even respond, Eli hawked and spit forcefully at his face. Bobby’s hands reflexively flew up to wipe his eyes, which gave Eli the opportunity he needed to grab the front of Bobby’s shirt and run forward, sending Bobby sprawling backward onto the grass with Eli on top of him. Bobby’s baseball cap fell off and rolled away as if to escape the scuffle.

          I was still standing several feet off at this point, silently rooting for Eli, who actually seemed to have gained the upper hand.

          He landed two or three good, solid punches right in Bobby’s face before Bobby managed to regain his composure, and then within an instant, he had flipped Eli over and pinned him to the ground by the throat with one hand. With the other hand, he reached down to his side, out of my line of sight, and produced a rather large, shiny hunting knife, which he drew back with the obvious intention of plunging into Eli’s left eye.


End file.
